Dane
by Rashaka
Summary: 6th year. Dumbledore is dead, and Snape is Headmaster of Hogwarts. Harry's life begins to spin out of control, pulling all those around him into a cycle of madness.--THIS FIC IS ON SABBATICAL FOR UNDETERMINED LENGTH OF TIME.
1. ACT I dot 1

                                                                      **DANE**

                                                                     ACT 1.1

          "I really don't feel like being expelled tonight, so remind me again why we are out here?"

          A thick braid of hair whipped through the air and hit the speaker in the face as the girl in front of him turned back to look at her friend, snapping her teeth as she did so.  "We're out here because we want to see _him_, remember?  We have to know if that second year was telling the truth, and Ernie asked us to look into it.  Besides, it's not like we'll be expelled if we get caught.  Just a little detention."

          Zacharias Smith put a hand to his stinging cheek, and glared a bit, knowing that his partner in crime wouldn't catch it in the dark. "Watch your hair, Bones."  Both students looked furtively around the corner of the hall, before making a dash to the third level's main balcony area.  Susan Bones led the way, her tall and lanky frame outlined by the faint lamplight as she leaned up against the double doors to the outside world.  Zacharias placed himself against the doors facing her, gaze firm as he removed his wand from his robe and met her eyes.

           "Maybe you won't be expelled by our glorious new Headmaster," he said, "but I certainly might, since I'm not the favorite niece of Her Majesty Queen of Magical Law Enforcement.  Ready?"

          Susan raised both eyebrows at him.  "Don't talk about my relative that way.  And yes, any time now."

           "Good."  The blond boy grinned and whispered a spell they didn't teach in school: in moments the huge wooden doors that supposedly kept students safe from the upper level balconies after sunset trembled, creaked, and fell open a crack.  The two teenagers pushed with all their upper body strength and moved the ancient slabs outward.

          The night beyond lay foggy and dark, with no moon and few stars.  It was the perfect situation for a good scare, and the Hufflepuff pair shuddered in unison as they remembered they'd come looking for exactly that.  Steadfastness was their reputation, however, and so both teenagers grasped their magic wands and marched forward onto the balcony.

           "I never though it would be quite this quiet," Susan muttered, touching the stone wall and peering over for a view of the Hogwart's grounds.

          "It's the height," Zacharius said.  "Do you see anything?"

          "Nothing.  It's like it always is, only dark."

          "You're not into poetry much, are you Bones?"  He lit his wand with a light spell and began to walk the line of the chest-high balcony wall, peering into the long darkness.  Susan lit her own wand and swung it around to face the castle wall, examining the flat, broad stones for anything interesting.  

           "Not my style, you know.  Not all of us have a life dream that consists of talking our way out of said life by charm alone."

          "Now that hurt," he replied, clutching his chest in mock pain and letting his voice take on a nasal whine.  "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were calling me, a fellow Hufflepuff, lazy.  And here I thought you were classier than that."

          "I'm as classy as they—"

          She had stopped talking, and her wand was pointed at the ground, held loosely in her hand.

          "As they what?" Zach prodded, gaze still on the fields over the balcony edge.  When she didn't respond, he turned around fully, looking for her.  "Bones?  Susan?  Susan—what are you—"

          She shushed him emphatically and gestured for him to approach.  When he was standing beside her she pointed one trembling finger onto the turret above them.  A wraithlike vision swirled in the air over the turret, deep colors swirling together like dark oils mixing.  The form would flutter in and out of prominence—sometimes a hand, sometimes the edge of a robe, sometimes a set of shoulders bowed as if under a great weight.   The students stared like wild rabbits, eyes bulging and limbs shivering.  They had seen many, many spirits walk the halls and lands of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but never had one appeared so dark and malevolent as this one, so reeking in bitterness.  As they watched the wraith strands took the solid shape of a face, eyes opening to release white light that, for one brief moment, illuminated the balcony, the sky, and the form of the spirit itself.  Then the eyes closed, and everything winked back into the empty blackness of a moonless night.  The two young wizards realized they were clutching hands, looked at each other in awe.

          "So it's true then," Zacharius whispered.  Susan bit her lip and nodded.

          "That was Dumbledore's ghost, and he is not pleased to be here."

-

-

**Author's Note: It might become clear to some people very soon what I'll be doing with this fic, and that's great if it happens, but if it does, I ask you NOT to post extreme ending spoilers in your reviews.  I'd like at least one reader to be surprised by the time they get there, if possible.  Other than that, please comment comment comment!  I'll try to update this very soon.**


	2. ACT I dot 2

                                                                      **DANE**

                                                                     ACT 1.2

          The Hufflepuff pair managed to get the balcony doors pulled tight before a new voice joined their little soiree. 

          "Zaccharius Smith?"  A dim light illuminated the face of Ron Weasley, wand held at ready. "—and—_Susan Bones?_  What in Merlin's name are you guys doing here?"  

          His two classmates stared at him open-mouthed, then slowly looked at each other.  They looked back at him, but neither managed so much as a hiccup in answer.

          "Well?  I'm waiting.  Just because I hate night patrolling doesn't mean I'll let you go you know.  Hermione's been on my back for a month about going easy on people I know, 'favoritism is wrong' and all that dragonshite, and I've got a cold right now too so I'm not feeling sympathetic."  He held up a handkerchief in evidence and sniffled into it loudly.

          "I—it—" Susan began, but fumbled.  Zacch squeezed her hand in reassurance.  They both needed it.

          Ron, for his part, frowned and looked more closely at them.  They wore their heavy cloaks and by their messed hair they'd obviously been outside for at least a few minutes, maybe longer.  They were breathing heavily and clutched their joined hands like the link was the only thing keeping them from screaming.  Ron's frown got deeper.  Which balcony was this again?  It wasn't the East corner, was it?  Oh damn, it was.  He remembered now.  That stupid rumor.

          "You weren't... you weren't looking for the," he grimaced, god hearing it was bad enough but saying it aloud was just _wrong_, "the ghost, were you?  You know that's just a lie.  And poor in taste, too."

          It seemed he had said the wrong thing.  Both Susan and Zaccharius seemed to straighten up, meeting eyes once again and then looking firmly at him.  They let go of their hands and Zaach stepped forward.

          "It's not a lie, Ron."

          Ron nearly wilted on the spot.  This was not something he wanted to deal with right now.  "Look, you two, I don't know what you think but there is NO ghost inhabiting this particular end of this particular tower, much less _that_ one."  Don't say his name, don't say his name.  Don't dignify that vile rumor by using his name.

          Susan jutted her chin out and adopted an imperious stare.  She had learned it from her aunt.  Her eyes were flat and cold.  "Ronald Weasley, I swear to you on my family's name that we saw a ghost outside those doors.  _His_ ghost.  Our prefects heard the rumor and sent us out to investigate, and it's true."  Her voice softened as she stared at the Gryffindor boy, and said his name.  "Ron, it _was_ Dumbledore.  And he was angry.  He was so angry."

          Ron swallowed unnecessarily as he looked from first her face, then Zacch's.  The resolution in their expressions was unsettling.  He shook his head in denial then, remembering himself, and his old mentor.

          "You're wrong.  Dumbledore was too kind in life to be angry in death.  He was too forgiving of everyone.  Even if he were a ghost, he would not be malevolent.  It's against his nature."

          "I'm sorry, Ron," Zaccharius said, looking away.  "I know you don't want to believe it but it's true.  It's real."

          The Weasley boy took a deep gulping breath, and squared his shoulders.  "I don't want to talk about this anymore.  I'm sick and I'm tired and you guys aren't supposed to be out here.  Whatever you saw... keep it to yourself.  Don't even tell Ernie or any of the other prefects."

          The other two blinked, surprised.  "I thought you didn't—" Susan began.

          "I don't!"

          Ron took another deep breath.  "I don't believe it's true.  But I'm sick of hearing about it.  The last thing this school needs right now is for someone more respectable than a few squealing first-years to claim that the Headmaster's spirit is restless, and actually out there waiting malevolently in the dark.  I'm going to convince the others to have this wing sectioned off from students, so no one gets into real trouble trying to do what you guys think you're doing."  He stepped backward, and waved his wand vaguely in the direction of the stairwell. 

          "Go back to sleep. I won't write you up."  With a shared frown the Hufflepuff scouts nodded, and headed silently back toward their House.  Ron watched them go with a bad taste in his mouth.

          Everyone had been on edge far too much these days.  It was hard not to be, what with all the changes at Hogwart's lately.  And the tragedy that lingered over every head at the school, in every home in England's wizard community.  One day he had been part of the world, their most respected and beloved and trusted leader, and then suddenly he wasn't anymore.  When Dumbledore...died...it was as if the hope had been sucked out of everyone.  He was more than just a headmaster, or an advisor.  

          He was _Albus Dumbledore_.   War hero.  Genius magic-user.  Symbol of wisdom and fortitude and ultimate strength of character.

          Ron sighed, and blew his nose onto his handkerchief weakly.  Even a whole month later, it hurt deeply to think about it at all.  And these fucking _rumors!_  Ron wanted to find the original brat that started them and shove his head into a place too small for heads to go.  Like a pipe vent in a bathroom.  Some place where his crushed face would have nothing to breathe but water and waste.  To Ron, who knew him, even if it wasn't as well as Harry, Dumbledore had been more than just a symbol and a figurehead.  He'd been their _captain_.  The head of the Order of the Phoenix and on top of that, one of the few adults that Ron trusted at all anymore.  The disrespect of this whole ghost business gnawed at Ron's gut like termites, or maybe a tapeworm.  Either way, it made him want to throw up.

          He wondered if it made the new Headmaster want to throw up too.  Or throw things.  Severus Snape used to be predictable (cruel, but predictable), however power and position was already starting to bring out new sides of him.  The ex-potions professor was much more demonstrative about anger, for one thing.  All the careful control he'd always kept seemed to have found an outlet in slamming doors, banging windows, and occasionally exploding random items outside his office window.  Unsurprisingly, no one yet had offered up protest.

          If Snape had indeed heard this particular rumor, it would give some explanation for the extreme number of measures enacted in this week alone, on top of all the others of this last month.  New rules for this, new scheduling for that.  Maybe if Hogwart's became a tightly run, well-oiled instrument then no one would doubt his performance on the job.  Ron sneered at the thought as he trudged back toward his own commonroom.  Undoubtedly the ugly git wanted to establish himself.  This rumor of Dumbledore lingering after death with unfinished business wouldn't help Snape's goal of having everyone acknowledge that _his_ control was the best possible thing for the school.  Besides being loved by nearly everyone, Dumbledore was mind-bogglingly powerful and skilled in his life, and a ghost of someone that strong being unhappy was something no one wanted to think about.

          Ron approached the painting of the fat lady and clung to that bit of disgusted satisfaction.  As horrid as the rumor was, if it was making Snape angry, it was doing some good.

**---  
And here we are!  Finally, after forever, I got off my butt and updated.  Briana Marie's review guilted me into it.  I'm sorry not much happened in this chapter except exposition.  But it's important exposition.    Yes, you will learn more about Dumbledore's tragic fate as the story progresses.  And next chapter, Harry!**  
Briana Marie- I can see you know your Lit!  Good.  And thank you for your discretion regarding future events.  I hope you like my version of the tale.  
Nanners0474- I hope you're not done dying yet!  This should help ease your suffering.  
Beitriss- I hope you continue to be surprised.  This is going some crazy places.  
Linda- Don't bite your fingernails!  That's baaaahhhhhhhdda.  And I wouldn't want to be responsible for your health going down.  Yep, you would think his death would be satisfying.  But that's the real mystery, and no one seems to agree on it.  
Bronwen Stx- This should clarify some of your confusion!  Actually, the fic summary says who the new Headmaster is.  Glad to have you reading.  
totallystellar- No sex scenes?  Pfftt.  Heck yeah there will be sex scenes.  I'll have to link them off-site, and they'll be a _long_ while yet before we get to it, but there will be some.  It's all part of the big messy badness to come.  Because, like death, sex complicates things.  It's painful.  And above all, FANFICTION. IS. PAIN!  That's the key.  I liked Zaccharias too, brief though his appearance was.  In fact, his appearance was so short that I can take complete liberty with his character and none may be the wiser about it.  
Michelle- Do you forgive me for making you wait so long?  After reading your wonderful_ Torment & Turnips_ update tonight, I couldn't go any longer without doing my part too. You've written such wonderful H/L fic in the last two months and I've been slacking off in HPverse lately.  ::glomp:: So I offer you Ron and beg a thousand pardons.


	3. bad news readers

Bad news folks.

I lost my entire outline for this story, and frankly I don't see how I can get it back right now.

If I get it back, I might continue it. But if I can't retrieve the outline then I most likely will not be updating. I apologize to the people who were interested in reading more. Sorry guys. I just don't want to rewrite that entire thing and redo all that work.

However, I will likely continue to put out HP fic in the future, seeing as there are still two books left to go.

Thanks for all the reviews so far.

Later,

Rashaka


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